To Survive or not to Survive
by april12b
Summary: Belief, can't live with it, can't live without. Takes place just after the end of Season 14. So, if you haven't watched it yet, spoilers ahead...
1. Chapter 1

Silence has its own deafening sound and its own pitch black darkness dedicated to it. It's all around you and filling the void, the empty centre in you and drowning you all at the same time. Sam realized it one more time. Not an epiphany-just a recurrent observation.

These hunts with the undead will never end. They'll be ash, nothing will change, no point in try and protect. "We are all already dead," Sam thought while cleaning his Taurus. Eyebrows were in perfect question shape, Sam looked a lot older than he actually was. His eyes were squinted at somewhere on the floor, shoulders hunched and as he stayed sitting on the edge of the bed in a shabby motel room, the atmosphere around him seemed to swallow him to the extent that he didn't even hear his brother opening the door and entering with exasperation and takeout on his hand, "I'm telling you, dude, these zombies are testing my pati-" and he abruptly stopped in his stride towards his bed.

It has been one and a half month since Chuck brought Hell on Earth. And they are doing what they usually do. They're surviving, trying to find a way to reverse it all. They are way over their head, as always. But they can't exit now, not without a fight. Dean thought. Cass has gone to heaven and with new angels, he's trying to save heaven because with the awaken souls, heaven is out of balance, more so than before.

But, that's not important now.

The important thing is Sam is very still.

He's not looking up at Dean.

"He doesn't even know I'm here," Dean thought without making a sound, he steadily moved towards the table that was a couple of feet away from the door. He placed the food on the table that did make a sound, enough for a hunter to be aware but Sam still didn't look up.

Dean felt uncomfortable. He dealt with this before. The checked out version of Sammy after the Hell-wall was broken. But, that was not good. Dean always used to see his brother, as a person who's in control, calm and composed and most of all alert with his surroundings. Dean mused for a second about what he should do now.

He put his hands a little over his head in a placating gesture and walked towards Sam and then stopped just a few steps away and spoke, "Sam?"

No answer…

"Sam?" Dean's voice rose a little higher but still not too loud.

Still no answer…

"Sammy?" This time his voice quivered a little.

That earned a reaction. Sam looked up, bangs falling into his eyes with a faraway look in it. Eyes that shook Dean to his core. Eyes that Dean couldn't remember, he has seen any time in the past. But he had to get through him.

"What are you doing buddy?" Dean's determined eyes were locked with Sam's hollowed ones. Sam seemed to reel himself in from where he was wandering and blinked at first and water appeared in his eyes. Water, Dean couldn't know, was there for looking for a long time without blinking or for any other reason.

But, that's not important now.

The important thing is Sam is looking at him.

Like really looking. It was registering into him that Dean was there.

"Dean is here." "Dean is looking at me that way." "Like he's worried but trying not to show it." "Why is he worried?" All that thoughts went through Sam's head in a millisecond and he spoke up, "Dean? When did you…"

Sam stopped and his eyes went to his brother's placating hands and he furrowed his brows further. If that was possible.

Dean saw Sam's eyes went up, at his hands and he saw his little brother's somewhat dazed eyes. It was unnerving to see Sam like that, even after what they've been through together. Sam still didn't move but Dean's eyes were now focused on Sam's hands.

Sam followed Dean's gaze and saw the problem.

It was his gun. His longtime companion. It's not unassembled anymore. In fact, it was loaded, the slide is pulled back and pointing towards his heart.

Sam was not shocked but amused because he couldn't remember that passage of time when he finished it cleaning, putting it back together and pointing it to himself!

Sam was amused. He changed the position of the slide and placed it on the side of his bed.

And Dean exhaled a breath that he didn't know he was holding. That sound of taking air made Sam feel guilty. He didn't want his brother to worry like that.

He started to speak, "I w-wasn't…"


	2. Chapter 2

He started to speak, "I w-wasn't…"

Dean promptly said, "Yeah. I know, Sammy."

Dean did know. That guilt-ridden posture of Sam was too familiar from his adolescence until now. Dean did raise him after all. Just couldn't heal him. Dean felt a pang of his own guilt and slightly smiled at the thought that Sammy was really his brother, maybe he inherited it from Dean!

But the self-loathing was ever present, even before Dean experienced it himself. Sam hated himself for years when he held himself responsible for their mother's death. Dean thought to himself, "Yeah, you just didn't learn how to not hate yourself, did you?" He was quietly looking at his Sammy's defeated form, "What were you thinking, little brother?"

As if Sam heard him at the same moment, looked up from his feet and said, "I really didn't want to kill myself. I don't even remember."

Dean was silent for a moment before he spoke, "I need your head in the game, man. You can't lose yourself like this!"

Sam seemed to internalize the words but couldn't understand it properly as he asked, "What for?"

Dean asked, "What do you mean?"

Sam questioned, "Why do you need me in the game?"

Dean looked puzzled now, he broke half a laugh, "Are you kidding me?"

Sam was not kidding. He was genuinely wondering, "What's the point?"

"Because there's an apocalypse happening out there!"

"Exactly! How many times do we have to do that?"

"As many times as it takes."

"Why? We can't even save our own." Sam was tired now and all of a sudden he laid down and put his back towards his brother. He didn't want Dean to see him like that, like hundreds of knives represented by hundreds of his failures over the years, sliced him through.

Dean took a deep breath. He couldn't leave it at that. He may not able to heal him but he won't let him lose either, not to himself, not like this.

"Listen, Jack-" but he couldn't finish. A sharp "Don't" came from the other bed but when had he ever listen to his brother, especially in these situations! So, he continued, "You did save Jack, you know. And you tried to save him again at the cemetery, you didn't even think about yourself!"

"Huh! Bang up job I did!" An empty laugh came this time.

Jack was Sam's kid. Dean understood, more than he wanted. "Jack wouldn't want this you know, he wouldn't want you to suffer!"

As soon as those words made their way out of Dean's mouth, Sam whirled around and stood before his brother as if the words broke something in him, "What he wouldn't have wanted was not to be locked up in a box!" Sam's eyes were big and bright with fire, his shoulder straight and his piercing gaze went right through Dean.

"There's my rebellious little brother!" Dean thought inwardly, "Anger, I could work with. Better than resigned." He spoke up, "It was not your fault. You did that to protect others. I know you. You wouldn't have let me keep him in there. You would have found a way to save him."

"Yeah, like I saved him by shooting God!"

"Writers lie Sam…"

That seemed to erupt a volcano as he roared in grief, frustration and million other complicated emotions, "I believed Dean. I believed in Him. All my life, I believed. Even when I knew that He's not going to do anything. I believed that at least, He's with me, with us. All these times, He was crushing us like bugs! I don't even know what my choices were and what were His! I asked for forgiveness, for His strength to bear it over and over. Now, I find He's the one who was inflicting it all along! What do I have now? What am I without my choices, mistaken as they may be, but they were mine! What am I without my belief? I don't have anything in me now, Dean. I don't have faith." His voice turned into a whisper, "I don't believe anymore…"

He turned around, made his way to his bed, removed his shoes this time and lay down. He was tired. So tired…

Dean's gaze followed him because words were long gone by now and they were not coming back to Dean. And as he sat there unmoved, the deafening silence took over and drowned them in it…Once again…


	3. Chapter 3

The iridescent light from the tv was reflecting on the vacant eyes of Dean Winchester and lightly illuminating the motel room that was enveloped in the darkness of dusk now.

Dean sat against the headboard of his bed, legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped together on his lap, staring at the tv without noticing anything. He doesn't even know how much time was gone, his mind was spiralling out of control and he didn't feel comfortable about it as the words "I don't believe anymore" kept coming back to him.

He has seen Sam disappointed before but never without his belief, never without a purpose. No, he has. But he does not want to think about that Sam. In normal days, well Winchester normal days, even when everything became pointless to Sam, he believed that they could come out of anything together. Dean relied on that. Dean was not a believer because he didn't need to be, Sam believed enough for both of them. Dean didn't need to have faith in anything else because Sam is his faith. "Pure and simple," Dean thought.

Except, there was nothing simple in this mess. Dean couldn't figure out how things became so complicated. So, he didn't stop to think, he just kept going. Because that's what he does but in the process, he was unaware that Sam was falling behind. Dean rubbed his hand on his face and sighed, "How do I bring him back from this edge? Mom? Dad?" He wasn't expecting any answer, just the strength that they left within them.

He knew they were in big trouble and all their lives' work was undone. But he kept going because he believes that they could fix anything together. But he couldn't fix Sam's faith. HIs anger at Chuck came back with a full sense of vengeance and his own frustration took over as he thought about the things he had done, both good and bad, the people he lost, all for what! For Chuck's entertainment.

On the other hand, he mused, "Wouldn't it be great to hold Him responsible for all my failures?"

He looked over his brother's still form. He knew Sam wasn't sleeping. "Wouldn't it be great if I could blame God for all the times I broke you to pieces?" No, he can't, he unamusingly thought, "No, I am responsible for all of it. Just like I am responsible to protect you, even now, always…"

Out of nowhere, Dean cleared his throat loudly, brought himself out of his pondering, cleared his vision by blinking profusely and spoke, "Sammy, I'm hungry."

And as if on cue, Sam leapt up from his bed with unnecessary force and grabbed the food from the table. He sat on the edge of his bed facing Dean and handed one soggy, cold burger to his brother and took one for himself. He folded the paper bag in a ball and threw at the corner of the room without even trying to hit the bucket.

Dean eyed him from the corner of his left eye and didn't say anything, not even a snarky comment. Levity has long waved her goodbye from their lives now. Sam silently munched on his food, his face was blank.

It was uneasy for Dean to see his expressive little brother so…empty…

So, he started a conversation out of necessity, "I was thinking."

Sam looked up to see the murky outline of the elder Winchester's form. He thought why hadn't he turned on the light and as an afterthought, it came to him, what's the point!

Dean waited for a response and when nothing came, he continued, "Our choices are ours. No matter what supernatural piece of crap was pulling the strings." Yes, Dean was seeing God as just another Supernatural creature now, nothing else, just bigger!

Sam didn't make a sound and for a second Dean thought Sam wasn't even listening to him but his brother's quivering told him otherwise. Sam was sitting straight and looking at Dean as if he had all the answers in the world. Dean continued, "Our sacrifices, our decisions, mistaken as they may be, they are ours and ours only. Yeah, the circumstances," he stopped for a moment, "were out of our control but the rest of it was on us and always will be. Our will is ours, Sammy. No one, not even God can stick His nose in that!"

Sam said nothing. He just continued to look at him intently. Dean was at his end, "Say something, will ya?"

Sam smirked but Dean doubted if the smile reached his eyes. Sam said, "Does it matter? There's no way we can survive this. All of our sacrifices have made its way to the gutter." The bitterness oozed from his words.

No, this was not Sam. It was someone else and then it hit him. It was Dean.

Dean struggled for a moment, just for a moment and Sam stood up and went to the bathroom and left Dean with his spiralling again.

After what felt like eons, Dean saw Sam was sitting beside him. When did he come over here! As he was thinking that, Sam spoke, "You don't have to worry about me, Dean. You have more than enough on your plate. I'll be alright. Don't worry, I'll be fine." Sam's flat voice convinced nothing. No one. Especially not Dean.

But, Sam completed his task of fruitlessly convincing Dean and himself and went to his bed. Dean couldn't heal him but he couldn't leave him either, "You still have faith, you know." Sam stopped but did not turn around. Dean continued, looking at his hands, "Your faith was not bound to God. You believe in being, Sammy. You believe in all beings surrounding you. Not just people, you see goodness in all living, breathing creature. God never made that choice for you. It's just you. You believe without thinking about the price. Hell, you even believed in me when I was nowhere near being human. You just believed, you didn't need proof, that's just who you are. So, there's nothing lost. It's all there." He forced himself to stop the rambling after he murmured, "You just have to believe."

Now, Sam turned around and looked at his brother's bowed head with somewhat glistening eyes. But, Dean did not make eye contact. And Sam just stood there. For a brief moment. Then he sat on his bed and found the remote, started surfing the channel, "What are we in the mood for tonight?" He focused his vision on the tv and thought, "Nothing's fine. Nothing's fixed. but they will be. In time." Now, he believed, just a little bit. And a bewildered Dean looked at Sam, saw the ghost of a smile in his little brother's eyes and relaxed on the bed.

The unspoken words, "Believe in me, Sammy," "Thanks Dean, for being here" cut through the before-present thick silence and reverberated around the little room and encircled the brothers with the feeling of being a little…alive…

The end

Hope, this was worth a read. If you want, please tell me what you liked or disliked. If anyone reads and have any question please let me know. Thank you... Have a great day/night.


End file.
